The Ripper Chronicles
by WeepingAngelXIII
Summary: The mind of a killer!  Rated M because of gory violence.
1. Mary Nichols

***This story is dedicated to who really wanted me to write this.***

Mary Nichols.

Annie Chapman.

Elizabeth Stride.

Catherine Eddowes.

Mary Kelly.

Those were the names of the five women who came to me for their own selfish help, and in so doing sealed their fate. Why would anyone ever do that? If they had only known what I had lost; if they had only know the horrible empty and sickening feeling of washing the blood of an innocent child from my hands; if they knew what they truly had (what I never could have) would they have ever thrown it away. They deserve everything that's coming to them. One of them already has: Mary Ann Nichols.

I am not one to judge, but I have always had a strong spirit. I did not judge any of those women for what they were. I am not petty like that, but it was their attitudes that got to me. None of them seemed to care. Nicholes was just so haughty and self-centred. You would have thought she was the queen's daughter if you had sat there listening to her. She just sat talking to me, constantly flicking her hair back and not really looking at me at all. Who did she think she was? She had almost demanded the operation from me. If it was my choice I would not have done it, if not for my own reasons but purely for her attitude. Unfortunately though, it wasn't my choice. I would carry out that operation whether I liked it or not.

I didn't.

Not one moment.

She made me so angry. I was no longer wallowing in self-pity, I had got past that. I thought I had lost everything that had meant anything to me, but I was wrong. That woman had what I wanted more than anything and could never have since the accident, and what did she do. She threw it away without any thought of the consequences. And, God, there would be consequences. I would make sure of that.

Red.

That is what I am. Red is not my favourite colour. I love it and I hate it, but it rules me. My temper is like fire, and if I think that someone should die, they will die. Everything would be stained red: red with blood. I would make that woman bleed and make her think about what she did as she watched her own life-blood leave her. So many times in my head I had killed her, I needed to make it a reality. I don't know what I was truly thinking at the moment, but I was so angry that I didn't care. Women like that are quite easy to find, especially in the East End. It was about half past three when I found her. The knife was in my coat pocket, and I had clung to the handle like it was my only comfort. This must be it. This must be the only way to ease the pain of my unhappy life. It would end hers, staining everything red. I watched in the shadows and waited for the last client of hers to be waved off and around the corner before I left my corner. Nichols stopped with her hand on the door and gave me a puzzled look.

"Hello?" she asked. "You're that doc..." Then she saw the knife. I was angry and didn't respond to any of her pleas for mercy or for knowledge of why. She stood frozen against that little doorway as I rushed at her. The knife slashed twice at her neck, spraying crimson blood from her throat. Nichols screamed but it didn't last long. She was dead before she even knew what had happened. I shook, looking down at what I had done. I did not feel sorry for her. She had brought this on herself. I was shaking more out of shock. Had I really done that? Did I have that strength? Did I just kill? I am a doctor. Why don't I feel anything? For any patient of mine who had died before, there was always some pang in my chest of pity. There was nothing here. I was breathing deeply, and I knelt beside the body. Nichols' eyes were open in horror of what she had seen but I took no pity. I drew out the knife again and held it over her stomach. I would take what she should never have been granted. I pushed the knife into the flesh, blood blossoming around the wound and staining her dress. I did not falter. It was almost as though I had been born to do it. I drew that knife through her like she was some kind of doll and opened up the stitches I had put in before. My left hand forced itself into the split and ripped it wider, feeling through her organs. Rip it out. Take it away. She never deserved it. I dropped the knife and used my right hand to open her up as well. Sifting through her innards, the tips of my fingers touched that organ I wanted. I picked up the knife again and cut it out, pulling it out and dropping it onto my knees. It was already mangled with the earlier operation, stitched together where it had already been torn open. I shook more. Why did she do it? She did that to herself of her own free will, just because she wanted an easier life? I bowed my head over her. Well, now she shared my pain and my colour.

Until I heard the voice I had forgotten the danger I was in. I had just killed, but that didn't really matter to me. My life still seemed just as empty, but the voice made me jump. I turned around quickly to see who it was. I must have looked awful. I was covered in Nichols' blood from head to toe. It was all over my face, hair, coat, gloves, hat, boots, everything; but he didn't seem to care. In fact he seemed to have enjoyed the "show".

There was something rather mesmerising about him. I knew he was not of this world, but he took pity on me for some reason. His eyes were a beautiful shade of yellow-green and his hair was as red as mine. He seemed relatively amused by me, but I did not feel like demanding why. He did not seem to be hostile, or seem like reporting me to any form of authority. He sprang down from the building he had watched me kill Mary Nichols from, and landed deftly in front of me. He smiled. The smile unnerved me slightly but I did not show it.

"Who are you?" I asked. The stranger looked slightly taken aback.

"Sorry. I should have introduced myself," he said. "I was very impressed with you. That was quite a little show. My name is Grell Sutcliff, and I'm now fascinated." I stood up and faced Grell properly.

"Fascinated?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes. I was here for her soul but got sidetracked. You could make a habit of this."

"I plan to," I said, looking down at Nichols' body. "She deserved everything she got." In that moment I wondered why I'd said that. I could quite easily be handed in now. I had confessed to murder and the conspiracy to commit it. However it didn't seem to bother Grell. He laughed.

"Really?" he asked, clapping his hands together and grinning manically. "How exciting! You wouldn't mind awfully if I tagged along, would you?" Now I felt confused.

"What does that mean?"

"I want to watch, be a part, whatever I could do to help," he said. "I know who you are, and I know why you did it. It's noble and sad, I grant you. I feel your pain, because I am like you." Grell raised a hand to his forehead, looking tired. "Either way I'm already in trouble. I'd rather do something entertaining before Will gets all huffy with me and he will do. He's like that."

"Why? What do you want?"  
>"Oh, nothing much. Just a reason to be with you," he said. "And a part in your plan. I can get you the alibi you are going to need. I think we have more in common than a certain colour." He flicked his hair back. "So what do you say? Shall we play?"<p>

I don't know the reason why, but I trusted him. He took me away from there before I could be caught and for that I was grateful. I employed him, and hid him away, pretending he was human. Life just went on though, and nothing particularly bothered me about what I had done. To me Mary Nichols was just a name on a list that I had drawn up: a list for death. Grell is interesting company to say the least, but I still feel as though something is missing with my life. News of Ciel has finally reached me. He is alive after all, but my nephew is changed. I have seen him. His right eye was bandaged up and with him he brought a strange butler, dressed in black. That probably should have made me happy, but it only made me angrier. The other problems seemed more to me now. The other women do not have much time left.

My name is Angelina Durless.

I am Ripper.


	2. Annie Chapman

Despite his usefulness in helping me evade the police after Mary Nichols' death I had one major complaint about Grell. Although I enjoyed his company (it felt an easier target of five with him as my ally) he is useless as a butler. He is clumsy and overdramatic. I can't really complain though. He is not a butler nor has he ever been trained as one. He is a Reaper and that was the reason I kept him on. Although seeing my nephew's butler does make my Grell look rather plain. Sebastian is perfect in all senses of the word. I think Grell felt the same though. He can't stop staring at Sebastian whenever he is present and he becomes twice as clumsy. I did send Grell to Sebastian once to try and improve his efficiency as a butler and all that happened was Grell wouldn't stop talking about him for a week (and he only dropped three plates). However I couldn't worry about Sebastian or Grell at the moment. I was planning my next murder...

**Annie Chapman.**

This is when Grell becomes an asset. His job revolves around death. This is his trade in a sense. He's clever and he can make impossible journeys in no time at all. An inhuman accomplice was sure to take me off any list Scotland Yard is drawing up for who killed Mary Nichols. Besides, I was a woman and Scotland Yard would obviously suspect a man considering her occupation – the occupation of all of them. Still, Chapman would be relatively easy to find, just as Nichols was. But this time I had Grell. This would be easier; at least that was what I thought.

I had changed my hair since the murder of Mary Nichols and I wore a different coat. No one had seen me in Whitechapel before but I could not swear to it. Grell wore his usual human disguise. Since he had become my butler he had assumed a more human and less noticeable look. His pointed teeth were now no longer visible and his red hair was now brown and pulled back and tied with a red ribbon. I guess he missed red so much, but he seemed to enjoy my company as much as I enjoyed his. His motives were still unclear to me though. From what he had said at our first meeting he had suggested that he was intregued and I had no reason to doubt that. Also he had said that 'he felt my pain' whatever that meant. The mind of my Blood Red Reaper was definitely difficult to fathom.

Both of us were armed: myself with knives and Grell with his Death Scythe. I have never seen such and interesting and destructive device before. It is more like a machine than an actual scythe and cuts through almost anything without any effort at all. Only Reapers could have designed something so destructive. It would go through flesh like butter. Grell was not going to use it unless absolutely necessary though. Anything that destructive could be easily traced. Besides, I wanted the pleasure of revenge myself.

"Have I mentioned your hair yet?" asked Grell. It seemed such an odd question at the time I almost laughed. I looked at him, confused.

"Sorry."

"I think it suits you like this, frames your face more." Now I had to laugh although it did sound shaky.

"How did we get onto my hair?" Grell pulled a face slightly.

"I was looking at it," he said. "Such a pretty colour for such a pretty colour, Madam."

He had taken to doing that as well: using the name of Madam Red. 'Madam Red' had been something I had picked up a while ago, before my husband had died, because of my passion for red. Not many people knew me by that name. To most I was Lady Angelina Durless-Barnett. Usually the only people who knew me as Madam Red were my friends and family. Rachel never did. I was always Ann to her. I had never gotten over my sister's death in that fire, or the death of her husband. Ciel's reappearance had made it hurt even more. If Ciel could come back why couldn't they? It makes me more bitter I guess. Killing Mary Nichols now felt empty. I'd have to deal with the others.

Grell smiled, showing his pointed teeth. I brushed off his compliment.

"Thank you," I said, unsure of whether or not I meant it. I stopped and leant against a wall, thinking. Grell flicked his hair slightly and inspected my face with yellow-green eyes.

"Are you nervous?" he asked me, pushing his glasses down a little so he could look over them at me. I shook my head, although we both knew it was a lie.

"No," I said emotionlessly. "I've done this before. I can do it again. I have to do it again, and keep going until they're all dead. They don't know how it feels. Filthy whores." Grell looked upset but I wasn't sure whether or not he was being serious. Considering his drama it is difficult to tell whether or not he meant it.

"I know," he said sadly (again that sounded almost pantomime). "I can't have children either and they're so cute when they're little. Will won't let me keep their souls either: the souls of the little ones. He spoils all my fun." Grell sighed deeply and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Why?" he lamented, looking suddenly a lot younger than he actually was. I felt like I should do something but I have never been the comforting type. I just stood and watched Grell sigh dramatically again, raising a hand to his forehead and then he looked back up at me as if for a reaction. Realising he wasn't getting one he smiled and dropped his hand. "Enough of that," he said brightly. "We have to find her."

It took longer than expected to find Annie Chapman. It took longer than it did for Nichols. Chapman had not returned home so Grell and I went looking. Outside her house, Grell leapt up to the roof from the floor just to see where she was. He landed without a sound and crouched to make himself less obvious, watching out for movement. Seeing him up there on the roof, staring down nearby streets, reminded me of our first meeting again: a harbinger of death. My nervousness vanished. What was there to be nervous about? I could do it again and I didn't have to worry. Grell was here, running across the rooftops, with no more noise than the night wind.

It was almost half past five before we found her in Hanbury Street. I think that was what it was called. I'm sure if I check the newspapers I will find out. Grell leapt from the roof of the building he had been standing on and landed softly amongst the shadows. I slid my hand back into my pocket and gripped the handle of the knife I had hidden. I caught Grell's eyes and he smiled at me before stepping out into the moonlight.

Chapman immediately set upon him, trying to make herself look as alluring as she could. Grell looked at her and smiled gradually sidestepping away from me so Chapman now was between us. She hadn't even noticed me. I moved slowly out of the shadows drawing the knife silently. Grell gave me a quick look of urgency. He wasn't enjoying this part. There was no blood. I smiled. I'd fix that. Die whore!

I grabbed Chapman by the hair and pulled her head back. She screamed loudly, confused and panicking. I raised my right hand and drew the knife across her throat, severing the Carotid Artery. The screams were drowned in a gurgle as blood poured down into her lungs and slid over my hands, leaching through my gloves, warm against the autumn cold. Grell grinned watching, and then laughed as Chapman collapsed backwards against me. I dropped her and looked down at the blood all over my coat. Grell looked like a child who had just been told his birthday was coming early.

"Beautiful," he whispered, as I knelt down over Chapman's body.

"Her too," I said and dug my knife into her abdomen. Grell knelt down next to me, Chapman's blood staining his knees. He removed a glove and stroked her neck.

"Paint them red," he moaned slightly, looking at the blood on his fingers with relish. "She was so ugly. She's better now."

"And she was selfish," I said, withdrawing my knife and pushing my free hand into the wound in Chapman's abdomen. I stared at her face, her blue eyes wide and frightened. "Burn in hell," I whispered, as I removed her organs. "You did this to yourself."

"Who screamed? Are you all right?"

That was a new voice: one I didn't know. Grell looked up like a startled animal in the direction it had come from. I cursed myself. I'd stayed here too long. Grell knew too. He jumped to his feet and pulled me up as I picked up the knife.

"Time to go," he said. "Hold on." And he ran, faster than I thought possible, and bounded along the rooftops of London. My heart was hammering. That had been too close. I needed to be more careful next time. Grell glanced at me as we sped through the night and gave me a quick smile. "Are you feeling better now, Madam?"

"Yes."

"Good." Annie Chapman's corpse was soon miles behind us. Grell was right. It felt better now. Two were dead already. That left three. Nearly half way there. Grell looked at me again. "And don't worry. I know how to get bloodstains out of clothes a treat."


	3. Elizabeth Stride

Ciel has arrived in London, and somewhat earlier than usual, on the Queen's business of course. The Ripper case is now his responsibility. I must say though that gaining a nickname was somewhat amusing. Grell for one was overjoyed by the "Jack the Ripper" title we had gained. It gave me some relief. Scotland Yard suspected a man, and on top of that they also had their eye out for one person. That and it was interesting to watch Ciel work. I went with him to try and see the body of Chapman today, but Scotland Yard unsurprisingly would not let him through. It seemed so strange to stand on that corner again: the corner that not long before I had killed Annie Chapman. Grell may have felt it too, but if that was the case he was hiding it so well. He is very difficult to read is my Grell. I guess that is why he is useful as an accomplice.

As Ciel wasn't allowed to go anywhere near Chapman's body, he head off with myself, Sebastian, Grell and Lao to a very strange place run by a very strange man. This Undertaker was a thoroughly perplexing man. He was very strange and morbid and had no taste in my jokes whatsoever. However he was able to tell Ciel about the uteruses. My stomach clenched when he said it, not out of revulsion but out of apprehension. My darling nephew is quite brilliant. He could outthink Scotland Yard. However if he thought he knew me he wouldn't ever suspect me. I had that advantage. I was his aunt. How could he ever suspect me? Ciel still had a wide field to cover anyway. He was looking for someone with medical expertise, and I pointed out that under those conditions I was also a suspect.

I still hadn't realised I guess quite how efficient Sebastian was. That was when I began to suspect there was something different about him. He had left the carriage on the road and had made it back to the house with a list of suspect and alibis by the time the rest of us had made it back. Grell seemed to think so too. That night he took me aside when no one else was there.

"I know," he whispered dramatically. "Sebastian is not what he seems. I've seen them before (although never one quite as handsome). He's a demon. Your nephew has made a contract with him."  
>"What does that mean?" I asked. I was worried if Sebastian could find out our secret. A demon? That would explain a lot and what he'd said when I'd asked him how he could have done the impossible task before we had arrived back rang again through my head.<p>

"_You see, I am simply one hell of a butler."_

"It means," said Grell, "that we have just outwitted a demon. He would never know that I am a Grim Reaper. He barely even notices me." He looked suddenly downtrodden. I smiled at him and touched his cheek.

"Don't worry," I said (despite the slightly alarmed look on my butler's face). "In fact, I think I may be able to play Ciel's suspicion of the Viscount Druitt to our advantage."

I joined Ciel in his visit to the Viscount's home. He was not feeling very happy. I could tell. In order to prevent himself from being recognised as a Phantomhive he was dressed as a girl, and he was finding it extremely uncomfortable. I was vaguely amused. So this is what my niece would have looked like? I smiled at him as he tried his best to look like he was enjoying himself. Elizabeth was here... I saw her. It also occupied Ciel for a time, trying to avoid her. It was still an entertaining party. Sebastian decided to draw attention from Ciel in his work by performing a magic show. Lao is frankly useless though. He stabbed Sebastian so many times without even knowing what he was doing. That is Lao though. He doesn't particularly think anything through.

This was by far the most daring plan I had devised so far. I had to stay at the party long enough to remove me from suspicion and still have enough time to complete the third murder. This had to be flawless. Grell knew that too. He hovered in the corner of the room, looking awkward and watching me. He did very well in playing his part; he had not yet so far stumbled at all. He was clever and could see outside the box. He watched Sebastian intently, his eyes occasionally flicking towards me to see what I was doing. I was creating my alibi: making myself noticed. I talked laughed and mingled with the other guests, slipping into my other self: the character I wore in public, behind which my broken soul hid. This was who most people thought Angelina Duress, Madam Red, really was. How mistaken they were. I wish I was, but I am far too broken for that. This character is who I would be if my husband was alive, and the child I never knew. At least this is what I thought. I was happy then. I'd learnt to be after my sister's wedding. Unfortunately this wasn't me though. I was the Ripper. I was a broken woman.

A hand touched my shoulder and I turned to look into Grell's green eyes.

"My lady." I got the point at once.

"Yes Grell?" I asked, stepping out onto the balcony. Grell cast a look behind to try and see who was watching us. Ciel had disappeared off with the Viscount a while ago. Sebastian had also vanished (although where too, I did not know). Lao was off in a corner talking to a man I had never seen before. Either way I had to be quick. Grell seemed to know what I was thinking, as he took my hand and took me to the edge of the balcony. With one quick glance to see if anyone was looking he swept me up onto his back. I held onto his jacket as he leapt from the building and across the rooftops. I praised Grell again. He seemed like a gift from heaven, even if heaven seemed out of reach to me now. I had killed two women and I was about to kill another.

First I had to look unnoticeable and in my bright red party dress I seemed rather conspicuous. Grell helped me to pin my skirts up and back, covering what couldn't be disguised with a long brown coat. Grell undid my hat slowly and brushed my hair back from my face.

"Pity," he said. "I liked that."

"Too noticeable," I replied and put my hand into the coat pocket. My fingers brushed against a razor blade. "We'll need to be quick or Ciel will notice we've gone." Grell smiled.

"This will be good. I haven't had this much fun in centuries. You, Madam, are truly worthy of your colour." He grinned at me. "Paint them red."

We were pressed for time. I needed to find my next victim quickly, a woman by the name of Elizabeth Stride; another woman who had thrown away her unborn child. Were they all like this? Grell passed silently into the shadows as we came across her sitting on a wall, counting her money. Grell pressed a finger to his lips and hushed me, pointing down the road towards a tall man walking away from us and Stride. I stood, waiting in the shadows for him to go. Stride gave him a cheeky wave as he rounded the corner and I smile. Now was the time to do it.

Stride looked up as I approached her. She looked mildly confused.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, but I paid no heed to her. I took out the razor blade, still advancing, my eyes fixed on her. Her fear meant nothing to me. Nothing could dissuade me: nothing. The coins Stride was holding clattered to the ground as she attempted to get away, straight into Grell's arms. Grabbing Stride by the hair, Grell swung her around to face me, holding her arms back and covering her mouth with one hand.

"Careful," he said in a singsong voice, as I raised the razor to her throat. "We wouldn't want to spoil that pretty dress." A muffled squeak came from behind Grell's gloved hand. "Go on," whispered my Grim Reaper. "Make her pretty." I cut.

Stride's scream was muffled by Grell's hand and cut short by the blood pouring into her lungs through the gash I had just made. I looked at her abdomen. I couldn't wait for her to die this time. I was on a time schedule. I cut her open with my razor, causing Grell to grip tighter to Stride's body as she stiffened and went limp. I extracted the uterus quickly and looked up at Grell. His eyes were closed, blood spattered across his glasses, smiling. He dropped Stride's body to the floor with a thud and looked at his hands, the white gloves stained with her blood. He smiled and looked up at me. I was aware of the blood on my face too, but I smiled back. That was three. I was over halfway there. Everything had gone well so far.

I should have known then it was too easy. It was not over yet.


	4. Catherine Eddowes

I froze as I heard another person approaching. Grell grabbed my arm and pulled me away and back into the shadows. He tried to sweep me up onto his back but I stopped him. I had just caught sight of the woman who had rounded the corner and I recognised her face. It was her: Catherine Eddowes. She was another one of those sluts. She had given up her child and condemned herself to hell.

"It's her," I whispered to Grell as he turned back to look at me. "Stay where you are?" Eddowes stopped, seeing Stride's body against the wall, blood still pouring from her open wounds. The silence of that moment seemed to last a lifetime followed by a tiny gasp followed by a tiny voice.

"Are you all right?" There was no answer. I gripped the razor blade that was still in my hand harder. It was only a matter of time before she realised we were here. I advanced slowly and Catherine Eddowes looked up. She saw my coat and face covered in Stride's fresh blood and her eyes darted to the knife. She surmised quickly what must have happened and she screamed.

I had no choice. I had to do it now. Eddowes took to her heels still screaming. I followed her, breaking into as fast a run as I could manage in my high heels. She was still faster than me though. She needed silencing if not for revenge but to keep her mouth shut.

Dead women don't talk.

With a swish, barely louder than a breeze, I saw out of the corner of my eye Grell leap into the rooftops and follow me. I risked taking my eyes off Eddowes for a second to watch him. His glasses and teeth glinted malevolently in the moonlight as he drew slowly ahead of me. Eddowes looked back at me and screamed louder. This noise was becoming too much of a giveaway. She had to die now! Almost as if he had read my thought, Grell sprang noiselessly from the roof, landing in the alley before Eddowes. She gasped and turned frightened eyes from Grell to myself and then back again. Grell drew his Death Scythe from beneath his coat, the roar of its mechanics splitting the night. He smiled, his pointed teeth emphasised in the grin splitting his face.

"Oh no, darling," he grinned. "I'm afraid this is the end for you." Eddowes whirled, staring at me as I advanced on her, raising the knife.

"Why?" she screamed. "Why are you doing this?" I stopped for a moment, my blade still raised.

"If you're trying to buy my pity, it won't work," I hissed at her. "You threw away your chance to do the right thing. You came to me and you made me destroy the one thing you should have loved."

"I had no choice..."

"There is always a choice!" I screamed. Tears slid down Eddowes face.

"Please," she whispered. "Please no."

"A life for a life," I said aloud, tightening my grip on the razor blade. "That's how it works. You killed for you. You have to die." My voice trembled. I remembered my own child: the one I had loved so dearly before it was born. Eddowes' poor little child. I had held its limp little body in the palm of one hand: so frail and small, barely human, and covered in blood.

Dead.

She'd never known that. She'd never known the feeling of holding that tiny child, two inches long, in her hand. My own child had once been like that, removed to save my life. I'd never wanted that. Anger boiled up inside me and I advanced on Eddowes. She turned and ran.

"NO!" I screamed and slashed at her. Eddowes screamed, her hands flying to her now mangled left ear. Blood poured between her fingers as I raised the knife again. Eddowes scurried on hands and knees away from me, closer to Grell. Grell raised his Death Scythe and gave me a look of pleading. I nodded at him and he brought the scythe down.

The Death Scythe did even more damage than I expected. It sliced through flesh and bone like it was nothing, blood pouring from the open wound, spattering far in all directions, landing in a fine rain on my coat and face. Eddowes scream once again split the night air. Grell jumped back as blood gushed from Eddowes' open wounds in a red fountain. The body fell back on herself, crumbling like a ragdoll onto the cobblestone. Grell's laugh echoed in the darkened street.

"It's been so long since I've done that!" he laughed. "I feel like I've been too nice recently."

I ran across towards Eddowes but Grell held up a hand.

"Be careful of that dress, my Lady. We wouldn't want it ruined now would we? Such a pretty colour too." I looked at the razor in my hand, the blood of the two women I'd killed tonight still clinging to it. I sighed.

"You're right," I said. "I look a mess." I glanced at my blood stained coat and gloves. Grell looked scandalised.

"Now that's not true," he said. "You look so beautiful like that." I looked up at him feeling confused.

"How...?"

"Red," he purred, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "So beautiful. Pretty, pretty red blood." He looked at the gore across the blade of his Death Scythe and smiled. "You were lovely before, Madam." He looked at me. "How beautiful you look now: dyed red in their blood." My lips twitched in a smile and I looked back at Eddowes' mangled corpse.

"It's lovely of you, Grell," I said. "But we need to leave. Don't worry." I drew the razor and crouched down by the body. "I won't ruin my dress."

The blade wormed into the open wounds of the corpse, pulling a neat cut through the flesh. Grell watched over me, fascinated, as I cut her womb from her flesh and withdrew it. Grell held out both of his hands.

"I will deal with it, my Lady. We need to take you back before you're missed."

"Not like this," I said defiantly, wiping blood across my face in an attempt to remove it.

"I know that." Grell waved his hand vaguely, the other placing the mangled uterus carefully in his pocket. "So come with me."

He swept me up again, carrying me to the rooftops. I looked back down at the mangled body on the street bellow, but I felt no remorse. Grell set me down on my feet, removed his gloves and slid his hands into his breast pocket, removing a handkerchief.

"Hold still," he said aloud, and dabbed it on his tongue wiping the blood off my face like I were some small child. "Now we'll have to redo all that makeup again. What a pity." I smiled a little.

"Grell," I said slowly, as he finished and folded up his hankichief.

"Yes, Madam?"

"It occurs to me that I never really knew why," I said. "Why me? Why was it me you came to?" Grell laughed.

"I'm pretty sure we've been here before," he said. "It's because I can feel your pain and to watch you take that anguish out upon those who hurt you is beautiful. It's fun in a way I guess."

"I sound like some kind of toy." Grell waved his hand, looking mildly insulted.

"Indeed no. You're beyond manipulation. You were grasping at straws, looking for escape, and I alone could help you." He splayed his fingers across his heart with a smile. "I'm an unusual Reaper as you are an unusual woman: the only human I have ever known who truely knew what it means to be Red. Red is passion. Red is pain. Red is blood." He looked back at Eddowes body again. "Speaking of which... we probably shouldn't stay."

"Grell."

"Yes, Madam."

"I never thought... thank you." Grell smiled widely at me.

"Just one deadly efficient butler," he grinned, and swept me back onto his back, as he leapt into the night.

He removed by coat before we arrived back at the party, and helped me redo the makeup that had been smeared. Grell disappeared into the night as he set me down upon the balcony, taking our bloody clothes with him. I smiled.

My Blood Red Grim Reaper.

What would I ever do without him?

I still couldn't find Ciel or Sebastian, but I hadn't been back long before the police started to arrive to arrest the Viscount Druitt. I'm sorry, Viscount, but you were too opportunistic. However, I was now cleared of the two murders that had occurred tonight and now there was only one left.

Mary Jane Kelly.

It was just her. Once she was dead, that would be it. Jack the Ripper would be gone forever, and I could bathe my broken heart in the blood of my victims. Maybe one day it will feel better.

I wonder what Grell will do when she's dead.

I hope he will stay with me. I'm getting rather used to having him around and getting the wrong number of sugars in my tea every morning. However I suppose he will go. It will pain me. I suppose he is the only man since my late husband who has shown me any kind of empathy. However, wondering will not change this. Ciel cannot possibly suspect me now. To him I was at the Viscount's home the whole time. I have one murder left to plan, and then I hope this need for blood will stop.


End file.
